


Va, Pensiero

by Todesengel



Category: Kagaku Ninja Tai Gatchaman | Science Ninja Team Gatchaman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're only human, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Va, Pensiero

Jun picked him up, like Joe had known she would, and after four days in the hospital Joe was just grateful enough at being sprung that he managed to keep back all of his comments about her bike and his dignity and just how incompatible they really were. It was a struggle, though, and by the time they broke his trailer out of the impound lot, Joe knew that if he'd had to spend one more minute with Jun's hot pink passenger helmet on, he'd have definitely said something that would have revoked all of his credit at her bar. And that would have been a bad thing, because then he'd have to cut back on his booze intake -- or start buying more on his own, and his budget wasn't nearly big enough. So it was with not a little relief that Joe hung Jun's helmet on the handlebar of her bike and raked his fingers through his hair -- two inches shorter than it was four days ago, but it'd grow back sooner or later -- and gave her his "thanks, now go away" smile.

Like usual, it failed to work on her.

"Where you headed?" she asked, obviously planning to tail him and make sure he had at least one decent meal.

"Yokohama." He checked his watch. "There's a race there in two days, and if I hurry I can make the late registration."

"Hmm." Jun gave him a skeptical look. "Are you sure entering another race is really such a good idea right now?"

"Ah, come on Junie, it wasn't _that_ big of an accident."

"Your car flipped over three times and burst into flames."

"Like I said. No big deal. Besides, I won didn't I?" Joe grinned and tugged a lock of her hair. "I'll be fine Jun. Honest." He slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, forcing her to take a step back and wave away the exhaust fumes. With his good hand he grabbed the sunglasses he always left on the passenger seat; around him -- through him -- his baby purred, happy to see him. He flashed Jun a smile -- a gentler one this time, soft and grateful -- and in his mirror he saw Jun sigh, give him a look that quite clearly said 'Idiots! I'm surrounded by idiots!', and get on her bike.

Joe gunned the engine again and took off into the late afternoon sun.

He figured he had about five hours before Ken caught up with him and he was going to take as much advantage of that time as he possibly could.

*

He was doing sit-ups on the top of his trailer, his feet hooked into the low rail that marked out perimeter of his home and _Nabucco_ blaring out of his stereo, when he heard the low whine of the Cessna's engines. He didn't need to look to know that it was Ken coming to -- what? Check up on him, maybe, since he'd been conspicuously absent the entire time Joe was in the hospital. Or possibly give him a smack down for compromising the team by being so damn reckless and getting himself injured. Chew him out for sure.

Either way, it wasn't exactly something Joe was looking forward to, since the check up would probably include that disappointed glare Ken was getting so good at, and the chewing out would be yet another variation on that old theme of Joe's recklessness -- which was pretty fucking hypocritical of Ken, come to think, though it wasn't not like that ever stopped him from lecturing. Of course, Joe had to admit, it was his own fault for choosing to park his trailer next to a flat piece of road long enough to double as a landing strip. But it was something he always did; although as he listened to the swish and crunch that accompanied Ken's walk through the roadside weeds, Joe really couldn't come up with a single good reason as to why.

He wondered if Ken was aware of his habit, or if it was just one of those things that they took for granted and never thought about, like the fact that Ken kept some of Joe's clothes in his closet for the morning after those nights when Joe was too drunk or too tired or too injured or too whatever to make it back to the trailer.

"Grab some beers if you're coming up," he called down to Ken, and boosted the volume on his stereo. The slow, melancholy cry of _va, pensiero, sull'ali dorate_ \-- the melody so discordantly hopeful and sweet given the lyrics -- sounded dull to Joe's ears, diffused as it was into the open air. Not that Joe had been expecting much -- this open field was no La Scala and the soprano singing on his scratched cassettes was no La Divina.

"You need a new job," Ken said as soon as he crested the ladder, two brown bottles clutched in one hand. Joe grabbed the beer and used the edge of the trailer's roof to pop the top off of his.

"That an order?"

Ken hit the stop button on the stereo, cutting the chorus of Hebrew slaves off in mid plea, and opened his own bottle before he replied. "Just an observation."

Joe took a swig of beer, then shook his head. "No, see, that won't work. If I quit the Ninjatai then how would I get away with killing Galactor's goons?"

He barely managed to hide his grin as he heard Ken choke on his beer. And then it was his turn to choke as Ken said, suddenly, "Was that what this little stunt was about? You want to quit?"

Joe wiped away his spilled beer with the back of his hand and shifted around until he could stare at Ken. Who stared right back at him, eyes cold and serious and Joe had to look away. "It was just a joke," he muttered. "I'm in until I die, you know that, and I'll kick the ass of anybody who tries to throw me off."

"Right and so, what? You decided to take an early retirement?"

"No I just. I wasn't going to let some bastard beat me was all. So, you know, I took a corner a little faster than I should've. But it's not like I haven't been hurt worse on a mission." Joe brought the beer bottle up to his lips. Lowered it. "And anyway, it's not like it'd be that big of a deal if I got killed, you know. I'm sure Hakase's got my replacement all lined up."

"Says who?"

"It's just common sense, Ken. I mean, we're only human. And it's not like the ISO is going to let the team go on at anything less than full strength. Face it. We're all expendable." He took a swallow of beer, not really tasting it.

"Not to me," Ken mumbled, and when Joe looked over he was looking away. "You're not 'expendable' to me. So don't go and die on me, got it?"

Joe picked at the label on his bottle, at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. Put his bottle to his lips and tried to take a sip only to discover that he'd run out of beer.

"Ken," he said at last, and then stopped. "Um."

"Don't read anything into it Asakura." Ken's voice was gruff, but Joe had known him long enough to know it was mostly an act. "It'd just be a pain in the ass to break a new guy in, is all. Besides, do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in reporting the death of a team member?"

"Right, right." Joe got to his feet and headed for the ladder. "Listen, you sticking around for a while?"

Ken looked at the beer then at Joe. "Not if this is all you've got to drink."

"Hey, you grabbed it." He slid down the ladder, thoughts on the bottle of wine he won two races back, on how he probably had enough stuff in his fridge to make something more or less edible, on the problems of dicing with his left-hand -- but Ken could do the chopping, so that was one problem taken care of. Ken wouldn't complain. Much.

The thud of Ken's feet landing on the ground behind him barely registered -- he'd expected it, after all, taken it for granted that Ken would hang around for a while, that they'd bitch and banter with each other and Ken would probably end up sleeping off the alcohol here. All these things taken for granted, so much of his life accepted and unexamined. His life a pattern drawn out in broad strokes, the days differing only in the minutia of the details.

Joe looked over his shoulder at Ken, then away. He was grinning and he'd probably have to stop that before Ken noticed and got huffy, but he couldn't help it.

He'd forgotten that sometimes it was nice to be surprised.


End file.
